


Nemo

by SilverKitsune



Series: Two for Tragedy [2]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Berseria level descriptions of violence, M/M, Tainted AU, Tainted Mikleo, Tainted Sorey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverKitsune/pseuds/SilverKitsune
Summary: Childhood friends, then lovers, then Shepherd and Sub Lord.  For all that malevolence had crept in and tainted them both, some things will never change.  Written for Sormik Week 2017 Day 4: Pendrago (Loss/Protection).





	Nemo

**Author's Note:**

> Since everything else in my Tainted AU fic is heavily inspired by Nightwish, I figured I'd continue that trend. This short was written while listening to [Nemo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIBdpFJyFkc), hence the title. Set during the time skip during Chapter 3, sometime after they leave Lohgrin with bladed weapons (falchion for Sorey, glaive for Mikleo) meant to kill, unlike the ritual sword and staff they used before, which could theoretically be used to disable.

“Mikleo, no!”

The hellion curled, dirt flying into the air as it powered up for a charging attack. Mikleo had been in the middle of chanting a Seraphic arte, and the sudden speed with which it streaked across the cavern had taken them both by surprise. He got out of the way in time, just barely, but that was close enough as far as Sorey was concerned.

He dashed forward, black and gold cape streaming behind him, using his forward momentum to knock the creature off balance before he pulled his left fist back for a Lion's Howl aimed at the hellion's side.

Mikleo saw his opening then, and began his incantation once more, focusing his mana on creating ice from the ground. “Ice, rend this demon . . . Ice Reaver!”

It screeched as the sharp blades of ice sliced open its soft underbelly, ichor streaming from where the well aimed Seraphic arte had cut straight through the shell, and Sorey took the opportunity to further widen the cuts with a Wolfwind Fang, finishing his attack with a Sword Rain.

The hellion shrieked as it died, but Sorey paid it no mind as he gathered lightning into his blade, striking quickly with a series of slashes. He struck downward, quickly flipping his blade around to slice through the hellion with a final upward blow. The blade cut cleanly through the hellion, the force and speed of the mystic arte keeping him mostly clear of the near explosion of guts and gore from the final leaping slash.

“Mikleo! Are you okay? You're not hurt? It didn't hit you, right?” Sorey all but shouted as he landed, eyes wide with worry and fear. It had been a common occurrence ever since that day – they both knew Mikleo could handle himself in a fight, but ever since that encounter with Heldalf, ever since that encounter that had completely derailed their dream more than Mikleo had ever thought possible . . .

Ever since the day the light in Sorey's eyes became clouded over by malevolence . . .

Mikleo closed his eyes, and recentered himself. There would be time to dwell on those thoughts another time. Right now, there were more pressing concerns. Like calming Sorey's frantic guilt-ridden thoughts.

Mikleo banished his glaive with a wave of his hand. “I'm fine, Sorey,” he gently replied. “It didn't touch me, I promise. I got out of the way in time.”

Sorey looked aside, eyes downcast in self-blame. “But what if-”

Mikleo raised a single finger to Sorey's lips. “Sorey, look at me,” he said as he gently cupped Sorey's face in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I'm still here. You're not imagining things.”

For a moment, there was the flicker of something more crossing those eyes – whatever Symonne had shown him that fateful day, Sorey had chosen not to divulge, but the haunted look any time Mikleo getting hurt or being a figment of Sorey's imagination was enough to let him draw a few conclusions of his own.

A black glove reached up to touch one of Mikleo's hands as Sorey finally relaxed enough to lean into his hands, eyes closing as though he wanted to memorize the moment. When he spoke again, there was an edge of brokenness to it that Mikleo had never heard before that day, and wished he'd never have to hear again.

“You won't ever leave me, right, Mikleo? You'll always be here?” Sorey's frantic green eyes searched his, and Mikleo answered with a gentle smile.

He released Sorey's face, arms moving down to wrap around Sorey's waist. “I'll never leave you Sorey,” he replied, holding him close, as close as he could. “Never. Just call my Name. I'll _always_ be there.”

And at that moment, as Sorey's arms shakily returned Mikleo's embrace, Mikleo swore, the next time he met Symonne, no matter what happened, she was going to _pay_. He would make sure of it.

 


End file.
